


It Should've Been Enough

by ryoku



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Captivity, Copious Amounts of Guilt, Death of unnamed background characters, Gen, Grisha Jason, Kidnapping, Moral Dilemmas, Severe bouts of Self-Doubt, Six of Crows AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26099620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryoku/pseuds/ryoku
Summary: Jason is more than Dick could've ever asked for in a little brother, and he's willing to do a hell of a lot to keep him safe and happy. Maybe too much.Six of Crows AU.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	It Should've Been Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZeroMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroMonster/gifts).



> ZeroMonster, I know you wanted a straight across cast swap, but I have trouble doing those sorts of fills. I hope something set within the Grishaverse satisfies instead. Thank you for the lovely request, it gave me an excuse to revisit this book, and to write the sort of fic I always enjoy writing! Thanks to penta and empires for setting up the exchange, and for reaching out to me to pinch hit! I had a lot of fun with the time limit! And as always, thanks go to PoisnousPixie, for the amazingly fast beta, and listening to my whining.
> 
> To those of you that aren't any of those people, I have tried my best to make this piece accessible to anyone that might not have read any of the Grishaverse books. That being said, if you're a huge Grishaverse fan, please excuse my inconsistencies. Feel free to call me on them, but please don't be too harsh? I've only read Six of Crows so far, so this fic was not written with as much knowledge of the verse as I'd like, and thus a little out of my comfort zone.

Jason saw the pyres first. Dick should've prevented that, even if he hadn't known what they'd find over the pass. 

The fires were long out, there'd been smoke in the distance a day or two ago, and he should've known. All that remained now were two shriveled, ashen husks that had once been people. 

“We can't stay here, Jason.” Dick said, not really knowing what else to say, as Jason stood there stock still. Jason knew what danger he was in, but Dick didn't think he'd ever seen the realities of it. The Drüskelle had probably seemed like monsters before they'd presented themselves as nothing more than cruel misguided humans. The pyres in front of them were no scary story to put unruly children to sleep. 

“They're monsters,” Jason whispered, unable to take his eyes away. Dick did his brotherly duty, and pulled Jason away by his shoulders, leading him back to the road. “They're all monsters.” Jason said, even softer than before. 

“They're superstitious,” Dick wasn't sure why he was making excuses. 

“They burned those people alive, Dick! There's no excuse for that!” 

“To them, Grisha aren't people. That's how they rationalize it.” 

“It doesn't change the fact that they burn people to death, simply for being born different. No one chooses to be a Grisha!” 

“We drowned them,” Dick said. It was meant to be a comfort, but it wasn't, just churned in him, poison through his blood stream. That was the reason for the excuses. Dick hadn't realized until that moment, too focused on getting them somewhere safe. 

“They stole us, put us in chains, and would've burned us to death! Of course I drowned them!” 

But Dick had told Jason to do it. 

“Being born isn't a crime,” Jason said, his eyes fierce and jagged, but something on his face cracked when he looked at Dick. “I'm not a monster.” 

Dick hugged him, because Jason was crying, and everything was horrible. And maybe Dick needed the hug too. “You're not a monster, Jason.”

“This is all my fault.” 

“It's not your fault.” 

~

When Bruce first adopted Jason, Dick had been livid. He'd always worried that Bruce had taken him in out of pity and little else. What was he supposed to think, when Bruce had brought him home – a newly orphaned Suli with nowhere else to go. Bruce spent a lot of his time out of Ketterdam, leaving Dick alone, but the sparse times that they had spent together had been important to Dick, and he'd clung to them like a child to a favored toy, reassuring himself that Bruce, for whatever reason, wanted him around as more than some exotic pet that could perform at will. When Bruce brought Jason home, he'd felt replaced and unwanted. It was made worse when Bruce formally adopted Jason, something Dick had hoped they'd been working towards. Instead, Jason was Bruce's first real son, and that had driven Dick crazy. All the jabs about his skin, and the talk about how exotic and desirable he was came back to him with a vengeance. He started to doubt that he'd been anything more than a kept pet. 

It was only when Dick had found out the secret, that he realized why Jason's situation was different. Bruce had found Jason on Ketterdam's streets, a young, penniless Grisha, hiding his abilities as best he could. He'd been lucky not to have been enslaved or indentured already. The Ketterdam's streets were dangerous for everyone, but even more so for Grisha. Between the 'recruiters' and the Drüskelle raids, everyone was out to exploit them. Of course Bruce -decent honest Bruce- would want to help a kid like that. The only way that Bruce could give Jason any sort of stability would be by adopting him, and ensuring the secret stayed a secret. Dick hadn't needed that kind of protection. It was true that Bruce had kept him away from indentured servitude by taking him in, but Dick couldn't hide what made him different, it was on his skin, displayed every time someone laid eyes on him. Adopting him wouldn't have given Dick any inherent status, he'd always be an outsider to Ketterdam's elite, but Jason was from Ketterdam, and looked it. He could fit as Bruce's son, and with Bruce's resources, they could hide his powers and keep him safe. It made sense, and proved to Dick that Bruce was still the good, decent person that Dick had always thought he was. But perhaps more importantly, it allowed Dick to accept that someone else needed Bruce much more than he did. 

It was only after all of this came to light, that Dick had started to deal with the fact that Jason was kind of the little brother he'd never had. Turns out having a little brother was much more work, and way more annoying than Dick would have imagined. Sure, the kid was obnoxious, and would sometimes use his squalling for practical jokes, but Jason was easy to like, and even easier to love. It didn't take long before they actually felt like siblings, squabbling and teasing each other relentlessly. 

Somewhere in between disagreements and laughter, Dick developed a protective streak. He'd known the logical reason why Bruce had taken Jason in, but he'd started realizing the emotional side of the equation too. Jason was a good kid, and Dick liked him. It didn't make much sense to be protective, with Jason's powers, he was probably stronger than both Dick and Bruce, but it felt like Dick's duty to look out for him anyway. It was important to maintain the secret too, so it wasn't like Jason could just use his powers whenever he wanted. Jason being adopted didn't change the fact that Bruce was gone a lot of the time, so maintaining the secret was a responsibility that fell to Dick, and it was one that he relished. At first, he'd worried about it more than he probably should have, but time went by, and when nothing bad happened, he started to encourage Jason to improve and practice his magic. It felt like a disservice to make Jason hide it forever, it was a wonderful, amazing part of who Jason was, and Dick loved seeing it. 

They'd had a few really good years, Jason had started to grow into his blustered confidence, and Dick had loved seeing him flourish in an environment that didn't want to enslave, kill, or militarize him. They got comfortable. Sloppy. 

~

Once upon a time, Ketterdam had been safe from Druskelle, but those days had come and gone. It was still illegal for them to snatch Grisha off the streets, especially Grisha that belonged to someone, but they were hard to catch in the act, and it was even harder to track them down once they'd taken their ships out to port, full of Grisha prisoners. It was typically easier for the elites of Ketterdam to keep Grisha servants under lock and key, and to cut their loses if one was snatched up. 

Everyone knew what Drüskelle did, how they hunted Grisha all over the world, dragging them to the Ice Court where they would be tortured and killed. There wasn't really anywhere safe from them, but Dick had thought they wouldn't be in Ketterdam. Part of him wondered if the rumors of Drüskelle raids had been exaggerated, to give the bosses of Ketterdam even more excuses to treat their Grisha inhumanly, or to convince them that indentured service was safer. 

He never thought they'd find Jason. Which is probably why Dick felt it was safe to have Jason practice his magic outside of town. There were parts of Bruce's manor that were good for Jason to practice in, but there were some techniques or things he wanted to try out, that simply wouldn't work inside, and practicing in town proper was out of the question. So they started to make day trips. They'd take a ride out to the forests around Ketterdam, and let Jason have at it. And it was fun for Dick too, to see how Jason improved, what all he could do, shifting and changing the air around them. He'd seen Grisha work before, but never like this, never seen one grow and adapt their skills. He wasn't an expert, but he felt like Jason was good at it, and getting better all the time. 

They went out like this once a week, usually in different locations, and on alternating days just to be safe. When they'd been doing it for a while, and hadn't been caught, it quickly turned into two times a week. So one day, when a group of Drüskelle hunters found them right in the middle of Jason's practice, isolated in the woods, it might have been pure dumb bad luck, but it felt like Dick had failed, gotten sloppy. 

Dick had told Jason to run. Probably scared out of his mind, Jason had. Dick had done his best to fight the Drüskelle off with his throwing knives, but there were five of them, and they were very well trained. Bruce had taught Dick basic self defense, and encouraged him to practice regularly, but he hadn't been in a real fight in ages, only practice bouts. Even if he had been well experienced at it, five on one were horrible odds. Still, he used every ounce of skill he'd gained in the carnivals, weaving in and out of blows, avoiding attacks, and retaliating with his knives when he could. Losing wouldn't have mattered to Dick, as long as Jason had got away, so he was only trying to buy time. It hadn't mattered. They'd obviously been prepared, because two more Drüskelle came out of the forest with Jason in tow. He was trying to wriggle his way out of their grip, but they slammed him to the ground, and locked him in shackles. Dick fought harder, more desperate and violent. Sloppy. He didn't remember losing the fight, but it happened all the same.

~

He didn't remember being loaded into the ship, just waking up in the filth and dank of it, with Jason plastered to his side. 

Fighting off the Drüskelle had been an impossibly shitty plan to begin with, he was feeling that now. The iron shackles were biting into his wrists, Jason was shaking beside him, and there was an ache in his head that probably meant he had a concussion. It had been the only option he'd thought of at the time, and if Jason had gotten away, it would've been worth it. As is, Dick just felt stupid. He'd let both of them down, and if he didn't do something, Jason would die because of it. Bruce would've done a better job than this. He certainly wouldn't have taken Jason out into the forest to practice. 

The cell they'd been locked into on the Drüskelle ship was horrible. It smelled like the last Grisha they'd locked up had died here, and the body had been left to rot, the fluids seeping into the wood of the floor. The whole place smelt like death and shit, and the mysterious lumps on the floor probably were remnants of either. From what Dick could see it was a small ship, with only one cell, so even if they'd wanted to separate them to be cruel, they hadn't been able to, so together they were, with their wrists chained in a way that prevented Grisha from using magic. Did they think Dick was one too? He didn't know. 

They were stuck in that filthy cell, for what felt like an eternity. They were fed irregularly, and the food was rotten and bug riddled by the time they got to it. Water wasn't more frequently given, or much better in quality.

At first, Jason had been livid and loud, spitting insults and vitriol at any Drüskelle that would come down to feed or taunt them, but as the days turned into weeks, and then a month, Jason pulled into himself again. He'd spend days without saying a word, and others he'd spend crying into Dick's chest, muttering with his scratchy throat that Dick should've just let them take him. Then it was back to silence again. 

Dick wasn't much better. There wasn't anything he could do to comfort Jason, couldn't even hug him with these damned shackles. He tried, told every story he'd ever heard, made jokes, tried to get Jason to play word games, or simply made up stories to pass the time, but none of it helped. So instead, he planned their escape. He'd learned a bit about escaping from one of the escape artists at the caravan a lifetime ago, so he was sure he could get out of the shackles at least, but that was only the first part of what needed to be a good plan. A plan that was going to save them. So he thought, and plotted, and planned, but despite all the mental energy he spent on his plans, nothing came of it. At first they were elaborate, surviving off of luck, chance, and very specific circumstances that never came about. Once the waiting got to him, the plans in his head started to sour. He could only see the flaws, the inevitable failures that would await them. It would've been worth the chance if he was gambling with his own life, but he had Jason to consider. It had to work.

Even if they got the shackles off, there were at least seven Drüskelle on the ship, and they'd be easily overpowered. 

Unless Jason killed them. 

Dick didn't want to think about that, but it came back to him over and over. Could Jason do it with his powers? He wasn't sure. They'd been starved, were weak and often ill, who was to say Jason would even have the strength for it if the opportunity arose? If they simply escaped the ship, and somehow snuck away undetected, the chances of drowning were still high. They had to do something, but what, eluded him, the pitfalls circling in his head like sharks feeding on his own weakness. He didn't want to make his little brother a killer, didn't want to put that weight on Jason's shoulders, but he couldn't just sit there and do nothing either. Round and round he went. 

All of it reminded him that he wasn't anything particularly special, just a Suli orphan that Bruce had taken in out of pity, and then left at home while he gallivanted around the world doing 'business', and 'finding himself'. Just another charity project to feel good about. 

Normally, Dick could pull himself out of these ruts of self-loathing, could go to Alfred for cookies, or read with Jason to get his mind off of it, but here, covered in his own filth, bound for the ice court with a crying 14 year old, it was impossible to just bounce back. No matter how hard he pushed himself, the helplessness was always there, eating away at his resolve, telling him that no matter what plan he came up with, they'd never escape. 

The closer they got to Fjerda, the colder it got. They'd huddled together before, leaching strength from the closeness, but now they had to relying on each other's body heat to stay warm. It was inevitable, the chill of death coming for them. 

~

The storm was a fluke, uncharacteristic for the time of year, and violent. The rocking of the ship was so horrible that Dick had been sick all over himself. Jason hadn't cared, and had been snuggled up close to him for warmth while thunder angrily cracked above, the sound deafening, making both of them jump like frightened children. When had they become this? Cowering in the dark corner of a cell, afraid of sound and inevitable retribution? Dick didn't know, but the life of Bruce Wayne's trophy ward, was only the phantom images of a past life. What scared him most was Jason, retreating back into himself, losing all of the progress they'd made, all the illusions of security that Dick and Bruce had erected, irrevocably shattered. 

It felt like the lowest they'd ever been, and as the thunder cackled around them like a vengeful ghost, it struck Dick that if he didn't do something now, he never would. He'd been overthinking it for weeks, caught in his own self doubt about the hows, the logistical impossibilities of what they had to do, and the moral implications of getting it done, but that was over. It was now or never. He could die with his morals, or try to keep Jason alive. 

Perhaps the worst part, was Dick had the ability to get out of the shackles whenever he wanted. He'd known how to do it since he was 6, but he'd been afraid. Afraid of getting caught, afraid of the freezing ocean, afraid of being punished, and afraid that his 6 year old wrists could do things that his 17 year old wrists couldn't. Once he'd actually made the decision to get out, it wasn't even hard. The tricks he'd learned a lifetime ago in the western steps of Ravka still worked, and within ten minutes, both of them were free of the shackles, and the cell. The Drüskelle were too busy trying to keep the ship from capsizing, so they didn't even notice as Dick and Jason escaped the cell using Jason's squalling. 

The situation on deck was chaos, the storm violent all around them as it flung the ship to and fro, while the waves threatened to capsize the whole boat. Dick saw a Drüskelle go overboard, and kept a strong grip on Jason. It was suicide to take one of the small lifeboats into this storm, but they did it anyway. In all the commotion, the Drüskelle didn't even notice until the deed was done, and even then they were too busy keeping their own boat afloat to come after them. 

They could've gotten away then, could've sailed off and might have made it somewhere. It was possible that the Drüskelle might never find them again, the world was a big place, and they could run if they had to. Maybe the Drüskelle ship would capsize, taking them all to a watery grave. But it was more likely that these same Drüskelle soldiers would survive, and return to Ketterdam to look for Jason again. If the two of them survived the ocean, Dick had to get Jason home, had to make sure that there was a safe home for him to go back to. 

When Jason said, “I can do it,” Dick knew what he meant. 

“Do it,” he'd said, damning the boat, and the Drüskelle on it, taking as much of the blame on his own shoulders as he could. It wasn't right to let Jason bear it all. 

It had only taken one lightning strike, called down from Jason's own hands. One glaring brilliant hole in the ships hull, and it had gone down. Jason had watched it over Dick's shoulder, as he'd desperately tried to paddle away, worried they'd be caught when the ship went down, as if the storm wasn't enough to worry about already. 

By the time Dick had even thought to look back, there was no sign that the ship had been there at all. He couldn't tell if Jason was crying, or if it was just the storm. 

~

Jason's squalling was the only reason they survived the storm. He could calm the storm around them somewhat, but it took a lot of energy. Once the storm had started to ebb, Jason collapsed against Dick, and just because he was an obnoxious brat, he offered to row. Dick didn't even entertain the thought. He kept going long into the night as Jason slept, shivering against his chest. He rowed until Dick didn't think he could keep rowing, and then he did it some more. When exhaustion finally won out, Dick barely managed to drag the oars back into the boat, before collapsing himself. 

They must have been close to the Drüskelle's home of Fjerda, because they hit cold, icy land within a couple of days, ravenous, weak and freezing. It had been spring when they'd been captured, so it was probably early summer, but Fjerda was still frigid and icy. Autumn or winter would have brought it's own problems, but summer brought slush, and within a few days on solid ground, Dick had already badly twisted his ankle. It didn't matter, he told himself, and they kept going. 

With his squalling, Jason caught birds for them to eat, but everything was so cold and wet that nothing they found would catch fire, no matter how hard Dick tried. They ate the birds raw. 

Once they found a mostly unfrozen stream, they were able to catch fish, and that was easier to eat than the birds, and with the stream came fresh water, something they desperately needed. They followed it, hoping it led to a city, but instead it led to a road, which was better. Their black hair and Dick's skin would stand out in Fjerda, but if they found a town, they might be able to find passage out of this frozen hellscape. 

The downside, was that the road led them to the pyres, gruesome reminders of what being caught would entail. It was only then, looking at the withered, ashen husks of what used to be people, that Dick felt the gravity of what he'd done. What he'd been willing to do to save Jason and himself. He couldn't look at those corpses without seeing his own sins. For Jason, it was life or death, them or him, but it wasn't so clear cut for Dick. The Fjerdans had good reason to fear Grisha, with one shot, Jason had brought down an entire ship. The Ravka army weaponized Grisha, making them into killing machines and set them loose on themselves and any nation that opposed them. Grisha were dangerous, but they weren't inhuman monsters, and they certainly didn't deserve to be burned at the stake just for existing. But did that give Dick the right to have drowned those Drüskelle soldiers either? Dick didn't know, and it ate away at him. If Bruce ever found out, ever knew what lengths they'd gone to just to escape, he'd disown them on the spot, and without Bruce's resources, he didn't know what would happen to Jason. He couldn't let that happen, but he couldn't imagine living with this guilt either. 

It was all well and good to rationalize it, to ignore Bruce's voice in his head saying 'There's always another way,' but it didn't help. He could resent Bruce's privilege, the money that gave him these 'other ways' and his unwavering morals, but that only made it worse. The Drüskelle traveled the world with the express purpose of pulling Grisha from their homes, simply for the crime of being born. They were monsters, but they were still people, with families, friends and futures. Did their crimes make it okay? Did any of it make Dick any better for using Jason to kill them?

He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know. But he did. 

~

They ran into more pyres before they reached a town. Some older than others, just remnants, but each one hardened Jason's resolve that he'd done the right thing, that Fjerda was a horrible place, filled with horrible people that deserved whatever retribution they got.

Dick worried, his resolve crumbling as he went. All of it was horrible, but how could he feel better about what he'd done? It shouldn't have been eating him up inside, but it did. It felt like the minute they'd walk into town, everyone would see 'murderer' tattooed on his face, and that he'd drag Jason down with him. Had it been right to prioritize their lives over the lives of their captors? It should have been. It had been for Jason, but somehow, that wasn't enough to ease Dick's guilt. He'd told Jason to kill those men. When Jason had looked at him for guidance, Dick had turned him into a murderer. Dick didn't know how he was going to live with that. 

What he hadn't expected, was for Bruce to be waiting for them when they reached the town at the end of the road. There was no possible way for him to have figured it all out and tracked them down that fast, but there he was. He'd been so prepared for their arrival, that the minute someone from the village spotted them, they were spirited off to the local inn, where Bruce was waiting. 

Jason rushed to him, was wrapped up in Bruce's arms before Dick had even gotten over the shock and horror of it. Maybe this was the problem, maybe he was shallow enough that he didn't care that he'd killed those men, but instead he cared what his decision would do to Jason, and what Bruce would think. 

Alfred had healed their bruises, and Dick's sprained ankle within the hour, and Bruce had them clean, fed, well dressed, and in warm comfortable beds within four. If Dick had let himself, it would've felt like it was over, like the whole thing had been some horrible nightmare that he could just walk away from and forget. Dick went through the motions, but in the end, he couldn't leave it behind him. 

They were back on a boat, Bruce's this time, on their way back to Ketterdam, when the damn finally broke. 

~ 

Jason was eating in the galley, one of the only times that he seemed comfortable being apart from Dick. He would've thought that Jason wanted some time on his own, since they'd been at each other's side for almost two months, but outside of meal times, Jason still stuck to him like glue. Even at night, he'd sneak away to Dick's room, and they'd sleep in the same bed. It kept the nightmares away for Jason, but it made Dick's worse. Meal times was really the only time Dick had to himself. 

Bruce's door was slightly more ornate than the others, and when Dick knocked, he was ushered in with a simple “come in.” 

Bruce's room was simple, with well made furnishings. The only thing that distinguished it, was that it was a bit larger than the other cabins, and the portrait of Martha and Thomas that hung on the wall, looking down at him. 

Bruce himself was seated at a fine wooden desk, scratching away at some papers. Writing and paperwork had once been a lot of what Bruce did at one point. It probably still was, but he'd been spending a lot of time with Jason, in a way that Dick recognized instinctively, as fear. Bruce had been genuinely frightened about losing them. Had sunk time and money into finding them, and been decisive and thorough in his search. Dick had no doubt that if the boat they'd been on had gotten to the Ice Court, as it had meant to, Bruce would've been waiting there for them, with money and arguments for why his sons were to be let go. Would he have succeeded? Dick didn't know, but it was Bruce, and it was easy to imagine he could do anything and everything. 

It was good to know that Bruce cared, probably more than Dick had realized. It also made everything so much worse. If Bruce had been able to solve the problem on his own, could Dick have avoided killing those men? If he had just stayed on the ship, and not taken the opportunity to run, would Bruce have rescued them? The what ifs were going to ruin him, and they made what he was about to do even harder. 

Bruce looked up at him with just a hint of a smile, shuffled his papers, and placed them to the side of then desk. “You're not eating,” he said. 

“Neither are you.” 

“I meant in general, Dick. Jason's appetite is back in full force, but you eat maybe once a day, and hardly much at that.” 

“I hadn't noticed.” 

They fell into silence then. It wasn't in Bruce's nature to lecture him. He'd always been a rather hands off parent, and he rarely said things that Dick already knew, saving his words for the times when Dick didn't know, or really needed them. Dick genuinely hadn't noticed his lack of appetite, but now it was glaring him in the face. He'd have to work on that. 

“I need to tell you what happened,” Dick said in a rush. 

Bruce nodded, and motioned to a plush chair. Dick sat, and told him everything. 

He took blame for everything he deserved blame for. How he'd taken Jason out regularly, encouraged him to learn and use his power, and how it had led to their capture. How he'd stupidly gotten them caught, fell into his own pit of self-loathing, and then how he'd used Jason to sink the Drüskelle ship. 

When he was done, he wanted to cry, but there was nothing left in him. He'd pulled all of it out, every last squirming worm in his gut, and put it on display for Bruce to judge. 

“You killed them.” Bruce agreed. Simple, succinct, emotionless. “What are you going to do about it?” 

“Once we go into port, I'll leave.” 

Bruce said nothing for a moment. Fingered the papers still on his desk, before stowing them away into a drawer. From the same drawer, he pulled a small bag that jingled with coins when he placed it down. When Dick shook his head no, Bruce pushed the bag forward insistently. 

“It won't last you long, but it'll give you a start.” 

“I don't deserve it.” 

“Take it anyway.” Bruce ordered. 

~

Jason seemed to know that something was up, though Bruce wouldn't have told him anything. He gave up the pretense of sleeping in his own bed entirely, and started dragging Dick to every meal without fail, poking at Dick's ribs every time Dick didn't eat 'enough'. 

Infuriating was the proper word for it, and Dick loved him in a way that broke his heart. If he'd been able to stay, it would've been for Jason. He was gaining his weight back, and even practicing bits of his magic in Dick's cabin, when it was only the two of them. 

It was Jason who told the stories this time, who got Dick to play cards, and made Dick teach him how to walk on his hands. Jason went out of his way to make sure they did as many fun things as possible, and dragged Bruce into the equation any time he could. 

It was horrible to find out that Jason could be so attentive, to see him worried about Dick instead of himself. Dick tried, put on a show of enjoying himself, and played along at every insistence, but Jason seemed to know he was just acting. At night, when they'd lay together, he'd pull Dick's arms around him, and wouldn't let them go. 

They didn't talk about what happened. Just like they hadn't talked about the life Jason had before he'd come to live with Bruce. It was for the best, Dick realized. If Jason ever asked, he'd have to lie about it, so it was better that it never came up. 

Probably intentionally, the ship put into port at Os Kervo, where Bruce and Dick had first met. Bruce probably knew that Dick would end up in Ravka eventually, looking for a Suli troop to stay with. There were excuses made about restocking supplies, fresh water and all, but Dick knew it was a ruse. Bruce was giving them a clean break, and it was more than Dick could've asked for. 

Somehow sensing that Dick was going to disappear, Jason didn't leave his side, never really giving Dick an opportunity to slip away. On the third day of just sitting in the port, Bruce gave Dick a pointed look, and that was all that needed to be said. 

~ 

“I'll go with you,” Jason said the minute Dick had pulled him aside, proving that, yes, Jason had figured it out on his own. 

“I don't think that's a good idea. You're Bruce's son, he needs you at home.” 

“So what, I want to go with you. Who else is going to make you eat?” Jason poked his ribs again. 

“I'll eat. I can take care of myself.” 

“But you don't.” 

“I will.” 

“Just admit that you don't want me.” Jason was looking him straight in the eye when he said it, unnervingly sure of himself.

“That isn't true.” 

“You blame me.” 

“No, I don't. Not for any of it. You have to believe me Jason, none of this was your fault.” 

“It was. I could've killed them all in the forest, but I ran, and I froze. When they knocked you out, I thought they were going to kill you. I told them you were Grisha. It's the only reason they took you, but they might have just left you there if I'd kept my mouth shut. It is all my fault.” 

“You don't know what they would've done. You did what you could to save me, right?” 

“I got you tossed in a cell with me, and yet you still tried to keep making me feel better, even though I was the only reason you were stuck there at all.” 

“Jason, it would've been so much worse if you'd had to do that alone. I'm glad I could help you even a little, and trying kept me sane. I kept things together because of you, but now, I need some time to myself. Do you understand?”

Jason was silent for a moment, staring Dick down, before he said, “You're running.” 

“No. Maybe? I don't know. Everything is messed up in my head.” 

“And you think I'm any better? How am I suppose to believe it isn't my fault if you can't stand to be around me?” 

“That's not it Jason. I don't know how I can prove that to you. I'm sorry, but I need this time to myself.”

“When will you be back?” 

“I don't know.” Maybe one day, when he could stand to put this all behind him and let the wounds heal. 

“Promise that you'll be back.” 

“I promise.” Dick hadn't thought of it before, but in that instant Dick realized that he probably would be back. He hadn't planned on it, but Bruce hadn't throw him out like he'd expected either. Maybe, one day when he was better, they would welcome him back. Or maybe one day Bruce or Jason would need him back, and he'd come without question. 

The suspicion on Jason's face was palpable.“If you don't, I'm going to bring you back,” Jason said, the statement sounding more like an oath than anything else. 

“I'll write, so if you ever need me, you'll know where to look.” That was a promise he intended to keep, simply because between Bruce and Alfred, Dick was pretty sure that Jason would never need him. Especially like this. In a few years, Jason would moved on, and everything would be better. 

“I'm going to bring you back,” Jason said again, his eyes burning into Dick like flames. “This isn't good-bye.” 

“You're right, little brother. It isn't good-bye.” Dick leaned over, and kissed Jason on the forehead. When Jason went red in the face, Dick ruffled his hair one more time, and was gone.


End file.
